


HALF-SOMETHING

by BellaGracie



Category: The Hunger Games
Genre: Angst, Dystopia, Evil Snow, F/M, Katniss is a mom, Motorycle Man, Peeta is a dad, Rebel Katniss, Somewhat Hijacked Peeta, Transporter Cashmere, Transporter Johanna, Transporter Peeta, Transporter Peeta is a jerk, Tutor Haymitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22389373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaGracie/pseuds/BellaGracie
Summary: In a dystopian future universe, Peeta works for The Network, a crushingly cruel one-man operation headed by Coriolanus Snow.Katniss is a member of the Resistance. So is Motorcyle Man (otherwise known as Gai-jin).Katniss and Peeta begin by trying to kill each other. Peeta's girlfriend is Cashmere and SHE tries to kill Katniss. But somehow, these two people from two opposite ends of the political divide end up . . . MARRIED!Welcome to my nihilistic, mind-bending universe.FANTASY, of course.
Relationships: Cashmere/Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 21





	1. THE ASSIGNMENT

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posting this chapter w/ minor changes (at the very end; mostly just adding detail to the Beijing sections)
> 
> Ha-Yi Ma = Haymitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger? Cashmere and Peeta are lovers in the beginning of this story.

Snow says, "I am assigning you a transport."

"I am on leave," Peeta says. "I am Off-Network."

"You are to make delivery of a woman," Snow continues, as if Peeta hasn't spoken.

Peeta raises a hand to the back of his neck, his frustration evident. Always the same problem. This is a dismal job.

The blonde in his bed gets up, pouting. "I thought you said we had all night."

"I'm sorry, Cash," Peeta murmurs. "I wasn't lying. I did have two days' leave."

Snow remains in holo, smirking. Sometimes Peeta thinks he does this on purpose. Cashmere pads to the bathroom, not at all caring that Snow can see her naked.

"Getting serious?" Snow asks.

Peeta ignores the question. "What has the woman done?"

"As of this morning, nothing. Nevertheless."

Peeta throws him a sharp glance. "I see." He shrugs. It doesn't matter, as long as he gets paid.

"This will cost you," Peeta says. "Extra coin. Because I was on leave."

"Of course, Peeta," Snow says. "You will get double the usual."

"Where's the assignment?" Peeta asks.

"Beijing," Snow says.

Peeta's eyebrows lift. "My Mandarin isn't very good, as you well know. Why not use Johanna?"

"Johanna has another assignment," Snow says. "Your Mandarin's good enough."

Peeta frowns. "It will be difficult for me to blend there. My hair -- "

Snow says, "The glamours will take care of that."

UGH, Peeta thinks.

"And my eyes?"

"The usual technology, they're already on their way."

"And my name?"

"Pei-Tu Mah."

"And the woman?"

"Her name is Katniss."

"That doesn't sound very Chinese."

"She's a half-blood. Her mother was a Transporter. Like you."

* * *

Peeta hates having to breathe the fetid air. He hates crowds, he hates cities, and China has some of the biggest. How can these people stand it? Maybe that's why almost all of them walk around with surgical masks over their noses and mouths.

Peeta had to take an intensive language brush-up class. Long-distance with his long-time tutor, Ha-Yi Ma.

After several hours, Old Man Ma said, "I give up. Just try not to talk at all. If you can get away with it. Pretend you're dumb or something."

Again, Peeta -- no, _Pei-Tu Mah_ , he has to remind himself -- finds himself wondering why it had to be him, specifically, to receive this assignment.

 _There's been a suspicious acceleration of renegade activity_ , Snow reminds him.

A vendor balancing two tin cans full of -- gruel? -- on a long, bamboo pole knocks into him, nearly sending Peeta sprawling into the pavement. He grits his teeth, but rights himself quickly. He lets his cornea chip take a picture of the clumsy vendor.

_You never know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many, many Chinese languages: Cantonese, Fujienese, etc. Mandarin is the official language, the one spoken in China's capital, Beijing.


	2. BEIJING

Usually, by now, Peeta has the Assignment trussed and popped into a pod and shipped to the Network for . . . for whatever it is the Network wants to do to them.

But there's something about this one. Peeta hesitates, assessing.

"Go on, say it. You think I'm gorgeous," she gasps. That wasn't easy for her to say. He had body-slammed her against a bed. You have no idea how a statement like that sounds in hard, clipped Mandarin. Until you hear it.

He loosens his grip somewhat. She goes on.

"You're probably thinking: Why couldn't I have a transport in Fiji? Islands. Humpback whales. White sand. Warmth."

Peeta gapes. He _had_ just been thinking: _Islands. Humpback whales. White sand. Warmth_.

A few Transporters had done a job last night. But how did this woman know? There's a twisting feeling in Peeta's gut. Could she be one of those fucking psychics? Had she known he was coming for her? Was this a trap?

“ _Bi zui_!” Peeta grits out, grabbing her braid and yanking her head back. “Shut up.”

"How is this so easy for you?" the woman -- Katniss -- grits out.

He had her. It had taken him a day, no more -- he was one of the best, after all -- to find her, gag her, and take her. If he'd been his usual self, he would have delivered her to the Network by now. But, he hadn't. Instead, he had taken her to a safe house on the outskirts of Beijing. Why, why had he done it. Peeta wasn't sure.

Her grey eyes -- grey! Silver! He's never seen anything like -- flashed with anger and humiliation.

Peeta made entry through Mongolia, his Altaic being marginally better than his Mandarin. The glamours had helped to disguise him, yes. His hair was black, and his eyes were brown. He was a bit taller and a bit brawnier than the average citizen of Beijing, but that had been explained by his Altaic. If questioned, he would just say he was ranching in the foothills. He wasn't questioned.

The woman was alone when he caught her. He'd been told -- or learned, somewhere -- that she had a son. But the boy -- if indeed it was a boy, he may have been anywhere between 5 and 25, information on the package was spotty -- was not with her. The boy was a danger, but Peeta would deal with that later.

Ever since he'd caught her, the woman had been silent. Merely fastened on him an intense glare. That is, until he'd dragged her to his room. Then, as if aware of his intentions, she had struggled with all her strength.


	3. PEETA HAS AN EXISTENTIAL PROBLEM

The Problem Is. The Problem Was.

_Who is this woman? What is she doing to me?_

There are 411 Transporters out of a World Population of 872.3 million citizens. We are pampered like no other citizens are. We aren't tied down to humdrum corporate jobs, and we get to go all over the world, depending on the assignment. And we are, all of us, rich. Maybe not as rich as the upper echelon of The Network, but I'd say we're definitely in the top 5% in terms of financial status.

My favorite part of the world is Africa. I love it for its open plains, its disappearing species, its lions, gorillas, zebras, elephants, and cheetahs. Animals lead simple lives: they simply try to avoid being eaten. They don't mess around. They don't LIE.

"No shit, hotshot," Johanna teases me. HER favorite part of Earth is Central Asia. Hence her mastery of Asiatic languages. Plus, with her dark hair and her dark eyes, she's halfway there already. Doesn't take too much to alter her so she can blend.

Me, on the other hand. With my stupid blonde hair (getting blonder every year, what gives) and worse, my stupid blue eyes, I stick out like a sore thumb.

I shouldn't complain, though. I did a job in Iceland, and Cashmere said I looked like a Viking. My package was in Reykjavik, thank the Gods! She was there on Assignment, too, but she's a lowerlevel, just a rookie. She said she wanted to learn from the best (me). I am open to flattery, all right?

I almost forget that Katniss is still looking at me. "You're thinking -- " she starts.

"Shut up," I growl. Now I have to get in touch with the Network and tell them that this package -- this package is wrong. She's not an Adept. She's something else. Maybe she's a Hack. Maybe she's here to infiltrate The Network. To infiltrate ME.

Lately, there've been a lot of leaks on The Network. In fact, it all got into a terrible muddle in Buenos Aires. 11 Transporters died there, somehow colliding at a choke point. Meantime, this Katniss is curled up under me like a spring.

I blink and activate my cornea chip. It's Cinna tonight.

"Cinna," I transmit through our standard brain channel. "I need reinforcements."

I can feel Cinna's hesitation. "Let me check -- "

"Cinna, I'm in trouble. This package is -- not as described."

"I'll send, but -- get back in touch. I have to go."

White noise.

FUCK!

Katniss surges up under me like a wave. I did not expect that. I still have a hold of her, just barely.

She smirks. "You're thinking of having sex with me."

Well, now that we've settled that.

She throws her head back defiantly.

Am I that much of a rogue? I am, I am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may wonder why Peeta is "arresting" Katniss and why he doesn't seem to remember her.
> 
> All will be revealed in time!


	4. HEART OF THE WORLD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is exactly as it was in the original:
> 
> Peeta's house in Africa, his memories of his father, the old Maasai warrior who was his first Assignment
> 
> Also: Meditative Peeta, as in: Peeta practicing meditation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite part of HALF-SOMETHING: back story! Especially Peeta's fantastic house in Africa. Which unfortunately, by the end (of the original version) had two unwelcome guests. I'll get to that later.

_Where are you, Father? Where did you go? What happened to you?_

His father and he, three days trekking with the Maasai. Watching as they followed vast hordes of wildebeest, traversing the dry plains.

"They will teach you much you will need to be a Transporter, Peeta," his father said. His father, just as blonde and blue-eyed as Peeta, but known to the Maasai as a Warrior.

Peeta's first assignment as a Transporter, Level I, was for a Maasai elder. The elder's eyes clouded with insult and bitterness. "I know you!" he gasped, in disbelief. "You! The son of the Warrior!"

Peeta hesitated. Hope flashed across the elder's face. Do your job, Transporter! came the command. Peeta nodded. He accepted that burden.

* * *

Years later, he returned to the dusty plains of Africa. He built himself a house that towered over the land, the rooms connected by rope walkways. No one had ever seen anything like. Peeta had designed it himself.

By then, his father was long dead. The Maasai left him alone. Peeta used a telescope to survey the land he now considered his.

"You are a strange one," Johanna had said, during a recent visit.

"Says the woman who built herself a tree-house in a rainforest," Peeta says.

"I don't spend much time there now," Johanna said. "I'm more in Chengdu."

Peeta threw her a sideways glance. "And that would be because of someone in particular?"

"Yes," Johanna said. "Bai."

Peeta doesn't press her for more information. Just as she doesn't press Peeta for details about his personal life. As far as Peeta knows, Cashmere is still _his_ secret.

Peeta has an excellent cook, who cooks him dishes so spicy it makes his tongue shrivel. The cook calls Peeta "Little Governor," Peeta doesn't know why. It must be a throwback to the previous century, when Africa was carved up by those old imperialist entities: England, France, the United States of America.

Sometimes the cook, whose name is Thresh, greets him with news: Massacre near Virunga. New Research Centre opening near Kigali. Thresh is a Warrior, too. Peeta trusts him with his life. He has seen the man's excellent spear-throwing ability. He knows the man's intelligence.

Thresh knows that after an assignment, what Peeta craves most of all is silence. He sits in an empty room at the top of one of his watchtowers, letting the silence of Africa enter him. Peeta sometimes stays in that room for days, especially after a particularly troublesome assignment. Thresh leaves his food on a tray by the door, moving like a whisper along the rope walkway back to the kitchen on a lower level.

Far away, there is a flash of silver: a very old river cuts straight through the plain. Peeta used to swim in it as a boy: he and his two older brothers and his parents. There is a temple by a bend in the river, a temple that used to be dedicated to some ancient God. The Network allowed the temple to remain, it is a relic of a more gullible time.

Peeta still enters the temple sometimes, to bathe in its single pool, or to wander its empty courtyards. Sometimes, he thinks he would like to die there. He will choose when and where to end his life. He won't wait until he is old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get to be more fulsome in the Notes now, ha! 
> 
> I still want to get Peeta back to his house in Africa, haven't figured out that part of it yet.
> 
> I mean: the house with towers and rope bridges! Thresh cooking hot hot hot food! Abandoned temple by a dried-up river! Baby dik-dik!


	5. DO NOT HARM THE PACKAGE

"You know you're going to end up spilling your secrets anyway," Peeta says, holding her down firmly. He doesn't actually speak these words, his Mandarin can't handle such subtlety. But he knows she can read minds, so he decides to make it easy for himself and THINK them. Thinking the words in Mandarin is actually much easier than saying them out loud.

"Never!" she shoots back. She struggles harder and -- damn! This one's a real fighter, much stronger than Peeta expected. He ends up having to almost sit on her. Still, even his full weight on top of her doesn't stop her from kicking out and trying with all her might to get free.

A message from The Network: _DO NOT HARM THE PACKAGE, TRANSPORTER. THE_ _NETWORK WANTS HER BROUGHT IN._

"You heard them," Katniss says. "You can't harm me."

"So, where's your son?" Peeta asks her, yanking an arm back. She cries out in pain. "I'll find him, eventually. But I'll go much easier on you if you tell me right now."

She bites her lip and shakes her head. Peeta sees tears begin to pool in the corners of her eyes. What does The Network want with her, anyway?

"I'd rather die," she mind-speaks. "I'll never tell a thing."

"That's what I thought. Too bad. But wouldn't make sense to waste our one night together. Now, would it?"

"Has it been a while?" she sneers, through her pain. "Is that why you want me so badly?"

"Of course not. The women I choose to be with are all beautiful. UNLIKE YOU." Why is he even bothering to argue with her? He thinks: _I could just knock her out; then I wouldn't have to play these silly word games._

"Admit it, I confuse you," she says. "You've never been with a woman like me before."

"You think too highly of yourself," Peeta sneers back.

"Always seeking pleasure, even with women who resist!" she retorts. "You do this often, _gou_ \-- you DOG!"

"Well, it would be nice to have some payback for the trouble you're giving me now. Women are usually very happy to sleep with me."

Peeta feels as if he's suddenly been stung by a storm of hornets. AAARGH! His hands fly up involuntarily and clutch his face.

Katniss is sitting up now, looking at him with a smug expression. And, Gods, what has she done? His face hurts!

"So, TRANSPORTER, now that I know what you REALLY look like -- " she says. "Your eyes are BLUE, not brown. How much did The Network pay you to change your appearance like that? I admit it fooled me for a while."

"Fuck you!" he screams, and lunges for her again.

But she's very quick. In what looks like a blur of motion, she's off the bed and standing straight, straight as a -- as a -- rod. _I'm losing my metaphors_ , Peeta thinks. _What does this mean?_

He's starting to understand why The Network wants this package so badly. There is some mysterious power in her, he can sense it. One of her parents was a Transporter, after all.

"Ha!" she sneers. "I'm leaving you now, Transporter. You will never see me again. But I will always be able to see YOU!"

And then, just like that, she is gone. Peeta clutches his chest and gasps in what is now an empty hotel room on the outskirts of Beijing. The pain in his head is too much. He collapses on the bed.

He has a premonition that this might be his last Assignment. What had he done? Who had he offended? He was not prideful enough to think he could never be replaced. But -- like this? Because of THIS WOMAN?

He suddenly hears her voice again: "Don't be afraid," Katniss says.

"I'm not afraid," Peeta scoffs. But his heart is beating madly. The heart doesn't lie.


	6. A STREET

Hector was Peeta's only other friend, apart from Johanna. He lived in Guayaquil, in Ecuador. There were several Transporters working around Hector's area: it was difficult terrain. Just south were numerous uncharted islands, and rebels naturally gravitated to these.

The freelancers working in Hector's area were mercenary, meaning they filled in when no one else was available. Hector never requested help, never talked about these others, but about a year earlier, Peeta received an assignment to transport from Española, a small island just south of Guayaquil. The terrain was all lava and boulders. Hector could have handled that, Peeta thought, and nearly asked about him. But the look on Snow's face warned him against it.

Somehow, Peeta knew. But had Hector known? Or did it happen when he was out taking the night air, enjoying a little bit of freedom between assignments. He was probably lost in thought, checking for messages on his cornea chip.

And then, afterwards, who identified the body, or was it collected by another Transporter, taken to the morgue, or perhaps to the dump. Peeta tried to push such thoughts out of his mind, but he was not always successful.

* * *

It's dawn. Snow knows about the failure of his mission, but Peeta has no memory of the conversation. He's surprised he's still alive. His heart beats strongly, the way it always has. He packs his things, goes to the lobby of the hotel, pays his bill, walks along dusty avenues, thinking of oranges. Sweet, juicy oranges, round as an infant's head, hauled to market and then to his home by Thresh.

The books on his night table. He is enamored of those artifacts, their yellowing pages, their cracked spines.

_Where is she? Where?_

The murmur (din) of voices. His memories of the encounter with the woman. How she felt when he'd trapped her (for a brief moment) beneath him. Him thinking: F _uck, I'll have a go at her_. What a comedown from his usual. Cashmere would laugh. _Peeta, how could you even think it? Her face_ _looks like a donkey's ass._

His head moves right, left, around. With the help of his corneal implants, the early morning darkness is bright as day, all the people sharp-edged. A pair of grey eyes ... there!

He whirls around. His right wrist is held tightly in someone's hand. Those eyes again. "You're either a hedonist or a disciple, which is it, Transporter?"

"Neither," Peeta grits out, reaching with his other hand to grab her braid.

She eludes his grasp. "Keep playing that game, you stupid man," she hisses. "My mother was a Transporter. You know what it did to her? She spent her last years lying in a heap. I threw away the gold watch HE gave her -- "

A motorcycle roars up, drowning out her voice.

* * *

When Peeta's assignments began to cluster north: the landscape of fjords and icebergs and glittering glaciers. Occasionally, he'd bump into Cashmere. Was it chance or some part of Snow's grand design? She, an Ice Queen, strolling a frozen harbor with her white-blonde hair, strands whipping in the wind. After their fourth encounter, Peeta began conducting a courtship of sorts. Was it Hector? The loneliness that came over him whenever he thought of his friend?

Peeta has fantasies of bringing Cashmere home to Africa with him -- of introducing her to Thresh. He even dreams, a few times, of what it would be like to have children with her. The right words never come, however. He knows his need for her is born, not of love, but of loneliness. And he holds himself back. So does she. She seems to grow harder each time he sees her. He doesn't like the changes; perhaps she sees similar changes in him.

* * *

Peeta's hands clutch air. He growls in frustration. Then, a sharp pain in his stomach. From a kick, a well-placed one. His hands reach out involuntarily but they remain empty. He feels a sharp disbelief.

"You will never understand," Katniss says. "Poor Transporter."

"You'll never escape The Network," Peeta says.

"Ah, but I have," Katniss says. "Many times."

A rattle, then a thump. He's sprawled on the sidewalk. A woman biking past with a kitten in a basket shouts as she falls, the cat leaping into the air just above Peeta's head. Hot, angry words from the woman and the passersby she calls upon to help her. Then, a rain of blows. He's in the middle of a circle of stomping feet. His arms fly up to shield his head. Is this really worth risking his life for?

“ _Gou_! Dog!” someone shouts, and spits in his face.

“ _Gou Xiong_! Coward!” someone else screams.

" _Zhu shou!_ " Katniss cries. "Stop it! This man is valuable."

A grim silence surrounds him. Then, he’s being dragged upright by the scruff of his suit. Someone jiggles a pair of large keys. And then he’s tossed into a car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transporter Peeta's life is about to change ... forever.


	7. DISPLACEMENT

Peeta wakes up on the floor of a white room. His hands and feet are bound. He strains to hear voices, anything, but there is nothing. He hates it. He's never been in this position before. He has to fight off a rising panic.

Where is that woman? Her grey eyes taunt him. What would his father think if he saw Peeta now? Trussed up on the floor of an empty room. He can feel the bruises on his chest and shoulders and arms, places where the crowd kicked him. He supposes he has to be grateful to her -- Katniss -- for not letting them finish him off. If it had been HIM in her place . . .

A trill of doubt. WOULD he have finished her off? It's what they've trained him to do.

He jerks angrily, an involuntary response, but he can't seem to get off the floor.

He feels a cool displacement of air and knows that, somewhere behind him, a door has opened. Then, a voice -- HERS.

"Transporter," she says. It sends a thrill through him.

He doesn't know why he tells her his name. "Peeta."

Not information he would normally share.

"Transporter," she says, and this time she says it like a curse.

"I don't love what I do," Peeta says.

_What? Fuck! He didn't mean to say that!_

"There are 411 Transporters. We will not rest until every last one of you is finished," the woman says. "Every last one."

"Was it you who ended Hector?" Peeta gasps.

The woman considers. "No, of course not. Your own Network did that. We wanted to save Hector. He was one of us."

What? Peeta shakes his head. "I don't believe it."

"Transporter, he gave us his codes. He allowed us access into his head."

No! Peeta thinks. Not Hector! I would have known!

The woman sighs. "He hated The Network. He hated everything it does."

"What did they do to you?" Peeta grits out. "They must have done something, or you wouldn't be this angry."

The silence is endless. Again, a cool stream of air. So she's left the room. They _had_ done something to her. Was it the same thing HE'D been thinking of doing? He is sickened at the thought. He's an animal, like the rest of them. He lowers his head to the floor and groans.

A while later, someone new enters the room. Peeta smells the difference. This one is a man.

Peeta stiffens, thinking: Are they going to torture me now?

Peeta lifts his head and stares. The man is tall and slender. He's wearing a short, brown leather jacket over a red T-shirt, scruffy jeans, and . . . a motorcycle helmet. Peeta's cornea chip plays back the stored images: the man on the motorcycle! He was at the scene!

"Transporter, your Mandarin," the man says, "is atrocious. Did you volunteer?" Peeta remains silent.

"They must be slipping," the man says. "Sending someone like you. Do you know, we made you right from the start?"

Peeta grits his teeth, refusing to answer. "I told her we should take your eyes. See what you have there, stored in your chips."

Peeta freezes. He can't imagine living with no eyes. It's like a story from one of the old days. In other words, NOT. REAL.

"She won't, though. I tell her she's being too noble." After a short silence, the man continues, "I'm here to offer you a deal. You have information that is valuable to us. If you cooperate, we'll let you live."

Peeta gives a brittle laugh. If he gives information, if he even so much as _thinks_ about it, he'll be dead. The Network will send toxins to flood his brain. Don't they know that?

"Whatever I do, I'll be dead anyway."

But he isn't. WHY?

"They obviously think you're too important. Or maybe you're a plant. They haven't scrambled your data. Why not?"

Peeta jerks spasmodically. He doesn't have an answer. _End me now_ , he thinks. _It is my right to be accorded an End_.

"You thought you could take her. That's why you brought her up to your room instead of shipping her straight to The Network. You're no better than an animal."

_An animal? Hello, it's the primary law of the universe: Take or be taken._

"So, we've been mucking around your personal info. There is a woman you fuck."

 _No_ , Peeta thinks. _No, no_. "What is the relevance?" I ask. Motorcycle Man clocks me in the jaw.

"Don't even try to deny it. She left traces all over your brain. She's not what you think. She's with Snow. No one cares about you, Transporter, or your sexual proclivities."

_Katniss does._

"She does because she is noble."

_Oh._

"She cares the way she cares about sick animals."

_Just what I need. Another fucking mind-reader._

"Where is she?" Peeta asks.

"Safe from the likes of you," the man says.

"I refuse to give my information to anyone but her," Peeta says.

"What you say doesn't matter. We _will_ get it out of you eventually." Motorcycle Man cracks his knuckles menacingly. "I think I'd rather enjoy mucking about in your brain."

Peeta thinks of the shape of her. The mass of a body can be deduced from the amount of air it displaces. All the time she was speaking, he was mapping her. It's a special skill. He wants to keep that skill. He wants . . . her?

"You're a pig. Do you know what we do to pigs?" The man gives Peeta a hard kick to the ribs, and leaves.

Peeta clutches his chest, where Motorcycle Man's kick landed. Gingerly he tries to feel for any broken bones.

_If Cashmere knew, there'd be hell to pay, asshole._


	8. UNBIND THEM

No one else comes, the rest of the day. The pain comes and goes. He doesn't understand what they want from him. He is prepared to die. It's part of the Transporter's code.

_Is this how his father went? Alone in a white room? Hands and feet bound?_

_Or did it happen quickly, a car barreling out of a side street, a shot. Another. Yet another._

He was 20 when he became a Transporter. It was a way to feel that connection with his father once again.

* * *

Towards evening, he feels a cool current of air waft over him. He holds his breath. It's HER. He knows it's her.

She walks right up to him, lifts his head with her left hand, cups his chin with her right, and looks deeply into his eyes. Peeta could lose himself for days in those depthless gray irises. "You will never give up, will you, Transporter? Do you want to die?"

He's about to nod. He pauses. Then shakes his head.

"Of course you don't," the woman says. "They feed you lies. Nothing but lies. Death is not what we were made for."

"It comes," Peeta says. "Whether we want it to or not."

"True." Katniss lowers his head. After a few moments, she says, "I will return with some food."

"My hands? Unbind them, please."

"No," Katniss says. "You cannot be trusted. My friend does not want me in the room with you, not even for a moment. But I accept the risk. Still, your hands must remain bound. Your feet, too."

"Will I eat my food like a dog, then?" Peeta asks. "Licking it off the floor?"

"No," Katniss says. She pauses. "I will feed you."

"That is a kindness. Thank you," Peeta says.

"But first, a question. What happened to you, Transporter? Why did you sell your soul?"

Peeta blinks. He runs through it again in his mind: the dusty street, the woman on the bicycle, the kitten flying through the air, the crowd.

"Tether your thoughts," Katniss breaks in.

"The man on the motorcycle," Peeta asks. "Is that your husband?"

"No," Katniss says. There is a flash of amusement in her tone.

"He acts as if he owns you," Peeta says.

"He is like that with everyone. You will soon get to know him."

"I don't think so," Peeta says. "He wants to kill me."

"True," Katniss says. "But it is forbidden. I will not let him."

A silence falls between them.

"Your father -- " she begins.

"Don't," Peeta growls.

She ignores him and continues. "You want to know what happened to him, do you not? Yes, you do. He was by himself. He was leaving a restaurant. It was late. He was the last customer. The streetlight was broken. He frowned, trying to remember whether it had always been broken. He was alone: the restaurant shut its doors and dimmed the lights."

"Stop," Peeta says.

"And that is how it happened," she says. She takes a deep breath and stands.

"Wait," Peeta says. "I want to tell you. I want to tell you, I had two brothers. Both gone. Do you, can you, see what happened to them?"

"No," Katniss says. "My gift comes and goes. Just now, in your presence, it came to a sharp point. I knew there was something I could share, something that would help you. I wasn't sure what. They never told you how your father died?"

"Never," Peeta says. He is overwhelmed by grief. He doesn't know why, but he harbored a small hope that one day, he would see his father again. In Africa. His skin burnt red by the sun, his blue eyes crinkling with happiness. "Thank you . . . for that."

"It is my duty to help when I can. And I know you are not beyond hope, Transporter. Perhaps we may still work together. For a common cause."

He looks up at her, startled. She clears her throat. "Your Ice Queen. Cashmere. We must have her. She is evil. She has ended many of us."

Peeta recoils.

"I am sorry to give you this information." She bites her lip. "I will be back shortly with your meal."

Peeta closes his eyes. He doesn't want her to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter had a lot of Cashmere. Which I've decided doesn't really add anything to the main story line, so I'm deleting most of her sections. YAY!


	9. KATNISS'S HUSBAND

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up cutting most of the Cashmere sections from this chapter (so it's only half as long as it used to be). What was left ended up being too short, so I've been borrowing from later chapters, doing cut and paste all over the place.

He's in his Jeep, the engine rattling in the quiet of a morning at home, in Africa. He drives this way, that way, along the dry, rutted creek bed.

There's someone sitting next to him. Her shape is indistinct. She smells amazing. Tendrils of her hair whip into his face. “C—cash – “ he stutters.

Cashmere's face, inches from his. "It was me," she says. "I did it."

Peeta recoils in horror. “Why?” he cries.

“It was an order.”

Her face melts into Snow's. "I've been waiting for you to slip up, Transporter," Snow says.

"Wait," Peeta says, "Wait. I can still work. Give me one more assignment. Please!"

His heart beats madly in his chest. He forces himself to open his eyes. He can feel the hard floor. He's alive, then. Still alive. He can hear a voice in his head, low, soothing: "You didn't know she was sleeping with Snow?"

He almost gags. "Get out of my head. There's not room enough for two in here."

"There is, Transporter. There's room for at least two, or three," Katniss's voice says. "Do you think she loves you? She's wrong for you, all wrong."

Finally, the room brightens. It is morning. Peeta hears voices somewhere, arguing. Then, Katniss enters the room, her face grave.

“We are removing your restraints,” she says, standing a few feet away, observing. “You look like you haven’t slept.”

“I haven’t,” he growled. “What do you expect, after sharing your vision of my father’s death.”

“I did that as a kindness,” she bridled. “Now you throw it back in my face.”

“Told you he didn’t deserve it,” a voice says. Motorcycle Man. When did he enter the room?

"We can’t keep him like this, tied up on the floor," Katniss says. "It's inhuman. We treat animals better.”

“He’s worse than an animal,” Gale shouts. “He would have harmed you!”

"No, I would not have let him."

“This one’s different,” Motorcycle man says.

Katniss turns back to Peeta. “We will remove your constraints. On one condition. You must tell us how to kill her.”

Peeta pretends not to understand.

"The woman. YOUR woman. With the ice-blonde hair and the rich laugh. She killed so many of us.”

Peeta stares. Katniss continues, her voice flat. “My husband and I lived in Tianqiao. It is a suburb of Beijing, both of us worked as translators. We loved nothing as much as history, we were both educated, my husband would read to me at night . . . “

Katniss takes a deep breath. Her eyes are sad. "You asked me about my son. I can tell you this, Transporter: The Network will never have him. Never, never, never. It will be over my dead body."

The voice in Peeta’s head says, I’ve found you!

Katniss’s gaze snaps to his, startled. Peeta doesn’t think she was meant to hear that message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to keep my mentions of Cashmere down to the bare minimum.
> 
> But she is coming to rescue Peeta next chapter.


	10. THE ICE QUEEN

Peeta tells Katniss, "You have to leave, you have to move. DO something. You're in danger the longer you stay in one place."

Katniss nods. Her eyes look sad. "I know." Her face is calm. Peeta doesn't understand.

"You know there is only one reason they haven't ended me. They're tracking me. She's found me. Any second, SHE'S going to come crashing through that door. And you know who SHE is."

"I've been expecting her, yes," Katniss says, quietly.

Peeta stares. Oh.

"I can see inside your head a little. She's there, too."

Peeta gapes.

"She is very close now, isn't she?" Katniss asks. "No, you don't need to answer. I know she is close." Her hand fists his sleeve. "You have to help us, Transporter."

"What do you mean? How do you want me to help you?" Peeta asks.

"Ah," Katniss says. "No time to explain. The Problem is. The Problem was. Too many things rocking about in that head of yours, Peeta." She said his name! It's the first time she's used his real name. "This may be the last time we see each other," she says.

"Why?" Peeta asks. "What are you planning?"

"You remember, what I said about my son, that The Network would only have him over my dead body. When SHE comes through that door, I will be ready."

"You can't take her on," Peeta says. "She's very -- "

"Powerful?" Katniss says. She laughs. "Yes, I know. But I WILL take her on. Because the only way to ensure my son's safety is to end her."

"You can't end her. Snow won't let you end her."

"It is what it is," Katniss says. She stands.

Peeta doesn't know what makes him say what he says next. "I can help you. Untie me."

She looks at him. Her eyes are intensely, deeply grey, and contain storms. Suddenly, she raises her right hand, and slaps him. He is so shocked, he can't resist, or move. Again she slaps him. This time, his head jerks back and hits the wall. "Stupid Transporter!" she says. "I hate you and all your kind!" Slowly, she reaches behind her and he sees she's retrieved a whip. Suddenly, he understands perfectly. It's one of those he's seen in picture books. A "cat-o'-nine tails" the books called it.

"No!" he screams. Katniss raises the whip above her head, flicks it. It's the merest scrape against his face. He doesn't think it even draws blood.

Cashmere comes crashing through the wall. The Ice Queen is here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES. Of all my many WIPs, I decided this was the one I'm most interested in right now. Go figure. Sorry for the short chapter.
> 
> NEXT UP: A completely new chapter. Backstory on Katniss and Peeta and their life as a married couple.


	11. TOTALLY UNEXPECTED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just decided to switch things up a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a total blast re-writing the original fight scene and making Peeta a more active participant.

Peeta watches with sick dread as Katniss turns to face Cashmere fully.

Cashmere's eyes drift away for only a second, just long enough to take in Peeta's supine form on the floor. Peeta tries to get himself into a sitting position, but it's awkward with his hands still tied behind his back.

 _Fuck_! he thinks. _I have to get between them somehow._

He can't let Cashmere kill Katniss.

_Why not? Wasn't that your Assignment, Transporter?_

_Well yes, but._

Not bothering to figure it all out, Peeta gives a mighty push and somehow gets to a kneeling position. Cashmere and Katniss are circling each other. It takes only a second for Peeta to register how much smaller Katniss is than her opponent.

_Cashmere will kill her. But I can't, I can't --_

He somehow gets to a standing position and lurches forward. Then he waddles -- the best he can do, his ankles are tied -- towards Cashmere.

"Stay where you are, Peeta," Cashmere growls. "I have business to take care of."

 _No_! Peeta wants to scream.

Something in Cashmere's expression changes. In his head, Cashmere hisses: _What do we have here? Did you two become lovers?_

 _Of course not_ , Peeta thinks back. _You know I love you._

 _Then let me finish this_ , Cashmere hisses.

In the distance, Peeta hears shouting. Doors opening and slamming shut. Did Cashmere bring reinforcements?

The door bangs open and Motorcycle Man rushes into the room. With Cashmere's attention momentarily distracted, Peeta hops forward. He catches Katniss's eye and begs, "Untie me, please. I promise, I can help you."

He doesn't even see her flick the whip, but suddenly his hands are free. Peeta flexes his fingers. They're numb from so many days of disuse. But the strength is returning.

Cashmere stares. Then, a string of words come rushing out of her mouth. _You dog!_ or whatever that is in her native language, which he thinks is Icelandic.

"I think you should go," Peeta tells her. Even before he's finished saying it, she's sliding across the floor, her legs flashing out like pincers towards him.

Peeta's seen this move before. He knows exactly how long it will take for her to reach him. He immediately breaks out in a full-body sweat. He wishes he could run, but that's not possible with his ankles tied. He ends up in a full crouch. His corneas flash numbers: 5, 4, 3, 2, and --

Cashmere's hands are on him. She's pulling him through a door. Twin engines in her boots rocket them upward. Peeta squirms, trying to look below, trying to see what's happening to Katniss, but there's smoke and Cashmere's moving too fast. Up and up, she and Peeta spin, until his brain becomes numb. A relief, because he really doesn't know how to explain Katniss to Cashmere. Or Snow.

* * *

Cashmere drags him furiously down a long, twisting corridor. Peeta's hands try to grasp the walls to offer some resistance, but it doesn't work. Then they're on a lift. Umm, is she taking him to Snow, is that why she hasn't killed him yet?

"I'm not going to kill you," Cashmere says, her voice tight.

Peeta thinks, _Thanks?_

But from the way she's manhandling him down the corridor, she certainly seems pissed.

A voice booms out: _Ah, Transporter, you are back, and none the worse for wear. I knew you would not be able to resist Cashmere's charms, at least not for long._

The voice softens. _Well done, my dear. Very well done. Though I haven't decided yet what to do with him. You'll help me think of something?  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how'd you like it? I know it's so different from the old version. I was able to bring in some humor.


	12. NEW ASSIGNMENT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very AU, so it may not jibe exactly with what's happening in the modern-day world.
> 
> Just to refresh your memory (since it's been a few months), Peeta was captured by the rebels, but Cashmere found him and hauled him back to "safety." Ha!
> 
> Rather than show Cashmere/Peeta (I'm really trying not to), I decided to skip to Peeta's next assignment.
> 
> Peeta's home is in Africa. His caretaker is Thresh. (In this universe, you can choose to live anywhere in the world, and that's where Peeta chose to build his sanctuary)
> 
> The Network is BAD and Katniss and Gai-jin are with the Rebels (GOOD)

"You have a new assignment, Transporter," Snow tells him.

"To where?" Peeta asks.

"The Gulf," Snow says.

"Ah."

The Gulf -- a lake of turmoil between two powerful, old Kingdoms: The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and its Shi'a challenger, the Kingdom of Iran.

"Iranian power and influence have increased," Snow says. "We do not trust Iran."

Peeta thinks back to a long-ago time, an assignment that took him through Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, and Yemen. He played a constant game of cat and mouse with his pursuers, a mysterious collective based in the United States.

"You will enter through Bahrain," Snow tells him.

"Alone?" Peeta asks.

"Yes, but we do have a few operatives on the ground who will be of service. We want you mainly to gather intelligence."

Peeta nods. Intelligence-gathering is not so difficult. In fact, he much prefers it to the other kind of assignment, when he has to kill people.

 _Tether your thoughts!_ Snow barks at him.

Peeta's deep, blue eyes snap to Snow's cold, gray ones.

"When do I leave?" Peeta asks.

"In five days," Snow says.

So Peeta has time to return home for a brief visit.

Something happens to Peeta whenever he returns to Africa. He keeps dreaming of grey eyes and China – there’s a pull he can’t quite explain. He can feel Cashmere sending him increasingly querulous transmissions. He’s almost nervous she might accept his invitation to visit Africa after all.

Thresh raises his eyebrows, asks when Peeta expects to return.

“I don’t know,” Peeta says. He has never lied to Thresh, and he doesn’t intend to begin now.

Thresh nods. “You search for something,” Thresh says.

That makes Peeta stop and look at him intently.

“Thresh, how long have I known you?” Peeta asks.

“Six years, seven months, and one day,” Thresh responds readily.

That makes Peeta smile. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Thresh. I’m grateful.”

The next day, he leaves. The grey eyes pull him like a homing beacon. He knows they're the eyes of the woman in Beijing. The minute he was home, the memories started recurring – only bits and flashes at first, then in coherent scenes.

* * *

Peeta is wading through the shallows of the Gulf. It is hot and dry and windy. There's a fishing village in the distance. Dhows ply the water behind him (in fact, that was how he was conveyed to his landing point: by a dhow that made a listless pretense of fishing).

Peeta's supposed to be a smuggler. From Bahrain, he will head to Dubai. Then, to Abu Dhabi. Then to Doha, the capital of Qatar. His heart pounds. He knows very well that this is possibly the most dangerous point of his assignment. There are probably people watching the shore, people working for both sides. Right now, they will be wondering who he is: Friend or Foe? And Snow will be watching, too.

The sand beneath Peeta's feet burns with an intense heat. It's probably over a hundred degrees. He is prepared; Peeta is always prepared. Yet he can't help thinking of his home in Africa, where at this time of day he would probably be sitting in his rooftop tub, gazing over the flat calm of the African desert.

The Network has no treaty with any nation in the Gulf, so if he is captured -- he shakes off the thought. He thinks Snow is testing him, ratcheting up the pressure. There's been a tension in Peeta ever since he received the assignment.

The Rebels are here, he knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have gotten into it more with Cashmere/Peeta but, umm. Never mind. Just assume Cashmere is off on Assignment somewhere else.


	13. THE PROFESSOR

In Qatar, he meets the Professor. He is an elderly man with white hair (How very cliché, Peeta thinks, until the Professor smiles at him. Ah!)

"Have you been to Qatar before?" the Professor asks.

"No," Peeta says.

"Would you like to see it?" the Professor asks.

"No, not really," Peeta says.

"Why are you here, my friend?" the Professor says.

"I am transporting."

"Transporting what?"

"A Princess. She sides with the Resistance. Snow wants her."

"Of course," the Professor says. "But first, a bath."

He shows Peeta into a palatial bathroom, almost the length of the entire house. And the Professor does have a large house -- almost, a Palace. He is not a Professor, Peeta thinks. He owns too much. Still, Peeta will never turn down a bath.

He sinks into the tub -- more like a swimming pool, with warm jets of heated water wafting about his body. At first, the water is a shock to Peeta's skin. He lets it run for almost ten minutes, then leans his head back on the lip of the tub. 

He hears the pounding of a multitude of running feet. He finds himself miraculously outside, on a street.

A familiar voice, silky smooth, says, _Didn't think it would take us five weeks_. A pause. _You've lost weight, Transporter. If these asses don't know how to feed a prize catch like yourself, fuck 'em._

He gasps and rouses. Yes, he's still here. In a tub in someone's palace in Qatar. In the house that belongs to the Professor. He turns off the spout and steps out onto cool tile and looks at himself in the full-length mirror. He hears Cashmere: _Are you getting settled? Are you enjoying yourself?_

 _I am_ , Peeta thinks. _But this Professor is not a Professor. In fact, he may be a rather dubious SOMETHING ELSE._

Cashmere laughs. Peeta thinks, it's been a while since he heard that laugh.

 _What do you think he is, Peeta?_ Cashmere says.

Peeta says, _I'm not sure, but he likes rococo and gilt embellishments. And the professors I used to know would never be able to afford such things._

 _Have tea with him_ , Cashmere says. _Find out what he can tell you about the Princess. It will at least be good tea._


	14. A SIGHTSEEING TRIP TO SEE WHALE SHARKS

"Mr. Mellark," the Professor says over dinner. "Would you like to see the world's largest aggregation of whale sharks?"

Peeta looks at him, startled.

"Where?"

"There is a private marine park, owned by Sheikh Abu-bin-Labin. It is far, but we can use my plane."

"I am on assignment," Peeta says. "Perhaps another time."

A familiar voice booms in his head: _You will accept the invitation, Transporter. If you know what is good for you._

Why should I, Peeta thinks.

 _You dare to question ME!_ Snow thunders in his head.

Peeta gives a brief, fleeting glance at the Professor, who sits back and gaze at him with a rather smug look.

Why bring me all the way here, if you're just going to push me out of a plane, Peeta thinks.


	15. THE MARINE PARK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the travelogue of Transporter Peeta in a dystopian future.

After, the Professor invites Peeta to enjoying their after-dinner coffee, seated on cushions in a veranda off the dining room. The Professor puffs on a hookah. Peeta is reminded of the cheshire cat in a children's book he read, a long time ago. Or perhaps he is just extraordinarily tired. He blinks.

The servants are heavily draped women in shapeless burkhas. Peeta remembers other assignments, with women who threw him meaningful glances that ended up with them in his bed. Wasn't that how Cashmere . . .

One of these draped women looks at him, a glance that strikes him as familiar. Where has he seen eyes like that before?

"Your corneas are bothering you?" the Professor asks, with a sly expression. He is referring, of course, to Peeta's corneal implants. All Transporters have them. The Network makes sure of that.

"I have been, lately, in St. Petersburg," Peeta says. When the Professor does not reply, he continues, a little baffled, "Russia's Imperial Capital."

"I know St. Petersburg," the Professor says, affably. "And what was the package?"

Peeta turns his face away. He hates talking about his assignments. "The thieves who had raided the Peterhof Palace." Peeta stopped. That assignment had not been clean: several had died, including an older woman on a bed in an amber room.

Peeta wants to lie down, suddenly.

"Tomorrow," the Professor says. "We will go flying."

As Peeta lay alone in his room that night, willing himself to sleep, he had the strange thought: What happens to Transporters when they get old? Would anyone notice? Would anyone come?

*. *. *

The next day, at first light, Peeta and the Professor walk across a tarmac in Sidi Infi. Wind from the rotor blades of a small propeller plane press their clothes to their bodies. Peeta's weariness and doubt of the previous day have evaporated, the strong coffee he had drunk that morning had revived him.

They board the plane, the engine roars. Soon, they leave the airfield behind. Peeta looks out a window and sees, far below, waves beating against a beach.

The clouds thicken; Peeta remembers that the Professor had mentioned an approaching storm front.

"The air has been heating up for days, weeks," the Professor had said.

The plane veers south; Peeta feels his pulse quicken. He looks down again; the ocean now looks gray and wide. The wind roars all over the little plane.

He has a flash: a man kneeling on a sidewalk, clutching his stomach. He doesn't know why, his breath catches. Is this a recent assignment? Which one? A sidewalk on which street? Which city?

The plane bounces, and Peeta's stomach lurches. The Professor touches his arm. Peeta looks at him. "It's a bitch out there," the Professor says, and smiles.

Hey, Transporter.


End file.
